He Breathed Night
by expletive deleted
Summary: Thief King Bakura offers the novice priest Seto the greatest seduction of all: the promise of power.


**Title:** He Breathed Night  
**Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh!  
**Pairing:** Priest Seto x Thief King Bakura  
**Prompt:** 035. Sixth Sense.  
**Word Count:** 4 179  
**Rating:** T. Contains implied smexin'.  
**Disclaimer:** Yu-Gi-Oh! was created by Kazuki Takahashi. Nothing associated with it, including this fic, gets me any money.  
**Author's Notes:** Slightly AU, with Seto and Bakura knowing each other since childhood. That part has a bit of backstory coming (eventually). Seto and Bakura are younger in this story than in they are in Egypt Arc – in the fic they're about 16 and 20 respectively, while I peg them at 18 and 22 in Egypt Arc.

**He Breathed Night**

"Priest," the man said as he paced back and forth across the tiny room, "I must say that you look beautifully sly when you watch me." He smiled. "And you watch me all the time."

"King," the priest said, his tone sardonic, "you bear watching. Neither of us is foolish enough to pretend it's safe to do otherwise."

"But we have an alliance, Priest," the so-called king reminded him.

"Oh yes?" the priest said, something troubled in his tone. "As a thief, you must walk alone, and I do the same because I am called a demon for my blue eyes. Does that lead us to walk together?"

A shrug. "Don't sound so weary. There's nothing to trouble you here."

The priest tilted his head and raised his brows as he stared at the king-of-sorts, a pointed and cynical gesture – it meant: 'what else but you?'

"Now, Priest. That's not true." He halted his pacing as he protested against the look. "That is what I mean when I say we have an alliance. Trouble you? No. Harm you? Never. I would never _touch_ you!" he said piously, and climbed onto the bed to slide over Seto's body.

Seto appreciated the joke in the action, and he roared with laughter. The not-at-all-king crowded him smugly, lying half-upon him with his cheek against Seto's and one arm wedged under Seto's chin.

He pushed the wooden headrest on the bed to the side, out of their way. "Ah, forgive me. I don't mean to speak so much," Bakura said apologetically; Seto knew it was another little joke. In the years he'd known Bakura, the man had never been quiet; he talked, ranted, and shouted perpetually. When he got serious, he talked even more. When it came to fighting, his words were still many, but focused to carry a killing intent.

When he insisted they disrobe – to ensure that hidden weapons were out of reach or would come to sight – that was when Bakura stopped talking so much. At those times his unhinged brain settled for some moments; he walked across the room because of his dislike of sitting still, ate scraps from his pockets, spoke of nothing in particular and expected little reply, and then reached for Seto.

Just now Seto pushed him away. "You were early," Seto said, one arm over Bakura's chest to hold him against the mattress, "and you came in anyway. It was _your_ idea to be careful about such things." They were not supposed to arrive one before the other, Bakura maintained, or a trap could be set. A seal was placed over the door each time they left that would reveal if someone had entered their rented room before the agreed time.

"You were only a few steps behind me, Priest. I saw you coming." He turned over, and Seto let him; he moved on top of Seto again. "Now hush," he instructed, and began to chew – it was nothing like a kiss – on Seto's shoulder. It was fortunate that fewer teeth were involved than when he ate, but it was mostly the same: he did it as if he were dying from the lack of it, as if he had done it all his life and would need to do it again.

His lower body thrust against Seto, impatient and misplaced. "Graceless King," Seto muttered, bending his leg and nudging with his hand to guide Bakura into a better position. "Where is the royal perfection?"

Bakura bit him savagely. "Don't talk about him!" he shouted into Seto's neck and bit him again. He jerked his hips at the same time, and in Seto's sight stars punched their way into a suddenly blacker world.

Seto frowned in the aftermath of the sensation, but the little worry caused by Bakura's words fell away soon. He clawed Bakura closer, fighting the fingers that dug into his shoulders so that they would press even harder.

He was not the type to forget such things, however. When Bakura heaved a satisfied sigh of conclusion and let his body relax, Seto said, "I was not talking of the Pharaoh. It's you who treats him as if he's everywhere you are."

"Priest," said the thief, "I told you not to talk about him now." Seto felt a wedge of something hard and wet on his neck, and surmised that Bakura was grinning, pressing teeth against his skin. He waited for another bite.

But his lover's lips pursed into a kiss before Bakura heaved himself mostly off of Seto. "Y'know, I watch you too," Bakura said against his cheek, his voice an annoying scratch like a burr.

"You had better."

"That's how I found out that I know stuff you don't know." Bakura was even more relaxed than his sprawling body indicated. These days, he rarely slipped out of his excellent imitation of courtly speech when they were alone.

"Tell me, then," Seto said lazily.

"Did you know it's almost sunset?" Bakura's hand edged around his cheek and petted him, as if to soothe. He really did enjoy physical sarcasm.

Seto rolled his head out of the way with a huff of annoyance. "You cannot possibly tell." He glanced at the door. Through the cracks he could only see grey blankness, and the dim light inside the room had not changed. "My magic holds. It still hides us from the outside, and the outside from us."

"It's only doing as much as it can. Your magic reaches its limits quickly."

"And what do you know about my magic?"

"I could tell you," Bakura said. "I could tell things that will make your magic stronger than anyone else's..."

Seto turned his face blank and studied the ceiling as he thought about that. Whether it was true or not - and he doubted that it could be true - the tone of Bakura's voice was more important. It sounded dangerous. That particular tone had heralded a host of terrible ideas in the past.

"I could tell you if you stayed," Bakura murmured.

The Thief King rarely failed to live up to expectations. _That_ was such a bad idea that Seto could not help but to jerk in shock.

As his reaction was obvious, he did not bother to reply in words. He shook Bakura off, stood up, and carefully kept Bakura at the edge of his vision as he readied himself to leave.

Bakura sat up but remained on the bed. He was silent again, and true to his words, was watching Seto attentively. Seto prepared the peasant's clothes that allowed him to travel untroubled through the district where they met. He put on the tattered shenti, scattering a handful of dirt from the floor on it to make it look work-soiled, picked up his wig from the table – and tensed as he saw Bakura turn abruptly. Bakura's shoulder muscles twitched visibly with tension, and he hit the headrest on the bed across the room. It would have been more impressive if the room wasn't so tiny, but the anger in the gesture was nonetheless easy to read. Seto paused.

"We cannot linger together," he said, and turned his back decisively to Bakura. The other man was more than intelligent enough to fill in the reasons and recriminations. He should, of course, have been intelligent enough not to ask Seto to stay...

Seto narrowed his eyes and allowed a doubt to make itself heard, even as he positioned his wig. Bakura _did_ know they could not afford to stay together too long – certainly not into the night – as Seto's duties demanded that he remain close to the palace; so surely he must have a good reason to ask for it?

Bakura caught Seto's thoughtful sideways glance with a triumphant smirk. He was always quick to pick up on weakness.

Seto gave up on pretence and contemplated Bakura openly. Many people had given him similarly smug looks meant to belittle and infuriate him. On Bakura, it did not. Though Bakura was a peasant, Seto could do nothing but view him as an equal; he was too powerful and intelligent not to respect.

The smirk merely meant that Bakura was overly satisfied with himself – a common occurrence – after catching Seto's doubt. He posed under Seto's scrutiny, moving with studied nonchalance as he leaned down to pick up his coat from the floor and draped it around himself. His posture pretended at relaxed lounging, but looked more like the anticipatory crouch of a hunting cat. "I assume that you have dressed only partway because you wish to meet the cold of night with me?" Bakura asked, tugging theatrically at his coat.

"Would you hint to me what night will bring?" Seto asked, taking care to hold himself still, to give no indication of whether he would move towards the door or towards Bakura. He had betrayed enough uncertainty already.

"Something of mine and something of yours, and more than you imagine," Bakura said. "Something you received as gift, but which was driven into me... Sit down, Seto."

Seto was used to the nuances of negotiation, and could read the offer Bakura made in that imperative. The words indicated that he could go to the bed to sit with Bakura, or choose to remained distanced and take the chair by the table. That meant that Bakura only found it important that he stayed, no matter if as a lover, or otherwise...

He did not trust the situation to remain neutral. Bakura was a clever thief, and would find it as useful to use an apprentice priest of the palace as the apprentice would find it to turn him in. "Is this business or personal?" Seto asked.

Bakura showed no umbrage at his starkly suspicious tone, closing his eyes for an instant's contemplation. "I couldn't choose between the two," he said, his smirk twisting darkly. "Both."

After all the time he'd known Bakura, Seto had learned what that particular smile meant: Bakura was thinking of the Pharaoh. It wasn't something that Bakura talked about, but his hatred of the Pharaoh was such a raw, blunt force that it leaked through his actions.

Seto felt a familiar moment of horror at himself for his companionship with this man. It was foolish loyalty that bound him to Bakura. They had met as children, when Seto had run from those who shunned him as a demon and had met a hungry, lost Bakura in the desert; often Seto told himself that he could have discarded such an old bond long ago without dishonour. But Bakura was not willing to let him go, and Seto sometimes felt that their paths _did_ run together because they each walked away from something else. For all the way they often had to dance around each other, the understandings they reached held an ease precious to Seto.

Seto took off his clothes again, draped them over the chair and strode to the bed. He suspected that this moment was important, and so refused to show hesitation in his body language ... no matter how predatory Bakura looked.

But strange as it was to see, Bakura suddenly beamed with happiness. "Priest! You came!" he cried, as if greeting him after weeks of separation. Seto was crushed nose first into Bakura's chest as Bakura wrapped every available limb around him.

"You are staying. You will stay. Now I can show you _such things_, Priest..." He sounded breathless – more so than physical activity ever made him – but Seto had no chance to ask for an explanation. "I must keep my guest occupied until the right time comes," Bakura announced, then used his tongue to a very pleasant purpose.

Seto found it harder to think after this distraction, but his wariness returned quickly. There was still some element of negotiating going on here; he could not afford to cede so much power.

"No, you don't really wish to leave," Bakura said, as Seto struggled beneath him...

"You want to stay," he said smugly, when Seto managed to pin him to the bed, twisting his arm behind him. The glint of Bakura's gold necklace was beautiful against his skin; he made the strangest sounds when Seto paid back all those bites with one of his own and then used his tongue to play with the cool metal of the necklace and soothe the bites...

"You'll listen to me," he said, voice like a burr again; one that stuck in Seto's hair, his cheeks, his palm, and his mouth...

When night came, Bakura told him.

-

The training hall was a mass of confused and frightened faces, rubble was strewn everywhere ... and _he_ had done it. Because of him, the chamber where apprentice priests practised their magic was filled with workers shifting the pile of rubble where a stone wall had been at the beginning of the lesson.

Seto looked at the evidence of his new power and felt a wide, easy path open before his feet. Those who thought him cursed now knew him blessed; those who wished him worthless had their words turn to sand in their mouths.

He felt fierce pride as he walked across the training hall after Priest Akunadin with everyone staring at them, and he struggled to keep his face respectfully blank when they entered the connecting smaller room and Akunadin turned to face him.

"Novice-priest Seto. What have you done?" the priest said with a grave intonation. But good humour was hardly concealed by it, and Seto felt a resurgence of pride: He had been called openly by his mentor. It meant that he was finally good enough.

Seto had always been grateful that the priest who wielded the Great Burden and Blessing, the Millennium Eye, took an interest in him; he had not resented that this interest was mostly covert. Such a high priest could not afford to risk his reputation on a boy, no matter how talented, who was called demon. But that was changed now, and every apprentice had seen it. Even the magic training master had gaped at them.

"I have learnt how to augment the power of my magic, my lord," Seto said.

"I guessed this, from what you managed to do out there." The priest's voice was even more sombre; but Seto saw a corner of the moustache twitch as if with a smile. "Am I right that this is due to magic from an external source?"

"Yes, my lord."

"That is highly unusual."

Seto kept his bearing proud, though he wanted to duck his head like a child caught at a prank. "I have studied hard and learnt well, my lord."

"But _where_ have you learnt from?" Seto had enough time to turn cold before the priest said, "No, you need not fear, Seto. I will not read your thoughts for the answer; I trust your good sense. It matters not where you have learnt this. But I do expect you to keep control of it in future."

Seto resisted the urge to glance out the door to the evidence of his strength. "Yes, my lord," he said, and was unable to still the smile twitching at the corners of his own mouth.

"I also expect you to show me what you can do. I can help you as few others can, and I intend to do so," Akunadin said, and now Seto detected only seriousness in his tone.

Seto detested bowing; he had been degraded enough to avoid doing it of his own volition. But now he sank to the floor, head almost on his knees. "Yes, my lord."

The silence that followed was long. Seto appreciated it. You could not be handed all your dreams at once and remain completely composed, even before a high priest.

"There is no need to make yourself so humble, Seto," Akunadin said.

"I am grateful." It was a simple truth, and he did not adorn it with an honorific.

The priest walked closer. Seto looked up and found a hand extended to him. He hastily accepted it, letting it guide him to his feet. "I will be honoured to learn from you," he said.

The priest smiled fully this time; it seemed odd somehow – wistful? "Though I do not bear the Millennium Torque, I can see that your future holds great things, and I shall try to guide you to them. We shall make arrangements later, Novice-priest. You may go."

Seto bowed once more, a swift dip at the waist, and turned away. He looked around when he reached the middle of the training room – at the targets painted on the walls, at the astonished apprentices – and wondered with an irrepressible grin how much more he could do.

-

He entered their hired room before Bakura, and had no time to disrobe before he was pinned unceremoniously to the bed.

Seto settled himself where he lay, marvelling at his current inability to feel irritation, and grinned up at Bakura. "What will you tell me today, Thief?"

"What need I tell you?" Bakura leaned down and clenched Seto's hair in a fist. "What will you tell me?"

Seto pushed Bakura closer so that their foreheads touched. "Anything you wish. I promise this." He thought of all that he had gained since Bakura had told him those secrets, and released his lover to laugh in the joy of accomplishment.

Bakura sat back, resettling himself on Seto's hips. The urgent, dark look on his face faded, and he regarded Seto languidly. "You fool, I'm a criminal. You can't promise me things like that."

"_I'm_ a criminal," Seto retorted. "I should be whipped or jailed for consorting with a thief like you. Why do you trust me if I betray my _Pharaoh _this way?"

Bakura's head snapped up and he looked into the middle distance with an expression of profound consternation. "I never thought of that!"

"Be quiet if you're going to be an idiot. Tell me instead what I can do for you."

Bakura shook his head as if to clear it, then looked thoughtful. "Tell me why you trust _me_."

Seto lifted his hands to rest them on Bakura's hips. "Since we met when we were children, you have not once really intended to harm me. You have saved me at times, and you have never used me. And with the gift of this magic, you have given me far too much not to repay."

Bakura's mouth curled into a grin of satisfaction. "You've learned the give and take of the shadow magic well."

"Will you tell me more about it?" Seto asked, sitting up so excitedly that Bakura fell off him and halfway off the bed. "Tell my why this is my gift, but it was driven into you. Why is it different? Why can only certain people use shadow magic?"

Seto was hit in the face by a knee as Bakura clambered back onto the bed. "I have told you not to question how this magic works," Bakura said as he kneeled beside Seto, lifting his eyes to the ceiling as if in exasperation. "I said that was important, if you recall. The night magic is my business. It is enough that you know it was brought to this world in my village – through my family."

Bakura lay down slowly. "But, Priest..." he said, then paused to wrestle his legs between Seto's. In return, Seto put his arm around Bakura's neck; the only defence against Bakura's tendency to overwhelm with obnoxious physicality was to meet him halfway. "Seto ... you cannot ask more of me when you still have not told me the promised _anything_."

"Ask me."

Bakura touched the hand that Seto rested on his chest and toyed with the fingers. "Your allegiance is satisfying." It was a hiss as dark as that made by the shadow magic; then Bakura sighed and said contentedly, "I'll ask you soon enough."

"Whatever I could tell you later, I'm sure I could tell you now." Seto wanted hints, at least, of what awaited them.

He waited for some teasing reply, and when it did not come he tilted his head to look at what he could see of Bakura from that angle. Bakura rolled his head away under the gaze. "Lie still, priest."

It was an odd thing for such an accomplished liar to avoid Seto's gaze. He had an urge to tell Bakura so, but instead settled down as asked.

Bakura was so good at lying that Seto had to remind himself constantly that Bakura had more than one motive for his actions. When they'd met by chance in the desert as children, he had befriended Seto because they were lost, he was injured and Seto had had food. When Bakura had helped him return to the city, a large part of it had likely been because he realised Seto was from a wealthy background, and had hoped for a reward for his return. When he'd offered himself as lover, he'd possibly had some idea of building trust that could get him into the palace to steal to his heart's content. But only on the night that he'd told Seto of the shadow magic had Bakura begun to avoid Seto's eyes.

He had told of the magic and of how he felt it resonate with Seto's magic. He had displayed the power until he was delirious with it, and he had taken it into his own body until he breathed night. When Seto had managed to call the shadows too, Bakura had flung himself onto the bed as if exhausted, and continued to give Seto advice without looking at him again.

Finally, when they had left the room to return to their separate lives, Bakura had elbowed him pointedly away from the door, and sealed it with his own magic. Seto had still been enthralled by this new magic, and thought that Bakura could not have said anything odder than what he'd said at that moment.

_"What do you think of my family's secret? Is it good enough?"_

_"Bakura, it's the greatest thing I've ever seen! It's amazing!"_

_"Thank you, Priest."_

Seto had hardly noticed then, but thought now on how soft Bakura's words had been; shaken by an undercurrent of rage. And there had been a sincerity that he had not heard from Bakura since they were children. Within this secret was something that Bakura could not bear to divulge, that made him speak in a trembling voice that and excited rage that made him hide his face. Seto did not understand why, but he knew that Bakura had never trusted him with something so true before.

Seto's too-strong loyalty left him responding to this trust in kind. If the thief could give him with something that was clearly near to his heart, Seto would trust Bakura to avoid harming that which was in his heart.

Seto's loyalty was not so easily bought that this power would cause him to favour Bakura over his Pharaoh. He thought that Bakura understood this; and because he could not let doubts cloud his mind, he had made his vow to repay Bakura in full.

"You should know it's not safe to sleep while I'm here, Priest," Bakura said, breaking Seto's reverie. He had stopped playing with Seto's fingers, instead holding Seto's hand flat on his chest.

"I am not asleep." He was content. It was hard not to be, with all he suddenly had.

"Ah. Then shall we...?" Bakura's voice trailed suggestively.

"Perhaps not today."

Bakura nodded, his hair tickling Seto's ears. "Not today," he agreed. "Not when the conversation is so stimulating."

Despite this comment, he remained still. Seto reckoned that this meant that there were only a few more moments until Bakura's boundless energy caught up with him. Well, they could always go to an inn and have a meal to conclude their meeting.

"Seto?" Bakura asked idly.

"Yes?"

"What do you plan to do with this power I've given you?"

Seto smiled. "I will live better than before ... I'll make things the way I always wished they would be."

Bakura turned his head, nose in Seto's ear for a moment, then shifted back. Seto noted that his meant Bakura was at last looking at him again. That was better; it wasn't natural for Bakura to be hesitant about anything.

"Good!" said Bakura. "That's what I want too ... you're making a good start."

"A start for what?"

"That's a different secret."

Bakura buried himself against Seto's side again. Seto was stiff for a moment, wondering if those last words had been said in the tone that heralded terrible ideas ... but he had promised himself that he would show trust. He _would_.

Seto let the quietude wear into him, focusing on the feeling of the hard wood beneath the thinning mattress, the cloying scent of perfumes that Bakura dumped on his unwashed hair to make it smell tolerable, and the dust in the air. With the lover he had chosen, he knew enough to value peaceful moments while they lasted.


End file.
